Grief. Anxiety.
These are what I’ve been dealing with the last few weeks. And now I can add
guilt. And it completely caught me by surprise.
I’m a grocery
worker. It’s a business that I enjoy for the most part. I like sales and I like
the challenge of deciding what to sell, how to market it, and how to display
it. But the last few years have been difficult for me because I’m blue in a red
area. It didn’t use to be a problem. And really, this post isn’t about
politics but I’m just going to say that I’m not as much of a people-person as I
used to be. I do as much of the “behind-the-scenes” work as I can at the store,
leaving the socializing to the other floor help.
On my downtime, I
like to cruise social media. I’m old enough that I didn’t grow up with the ability
to easily reach out and connect with people from other countries. It’s an
amazing thing and I learn so much. And several months ago, the chatter was
about the virus hitting
China.
Common sense said it would spread and I planned ahead. I stocked up on
groceries and refilled my prescription medicines at the end of February. I
stowed away a little extra cash. My husband and I prepared, even when the
people around us ignored it. And, as we all know, when it hit, it hit. Things
at my little store went crazy. Our crew is small and we were overburdened, not
taking breaks and cutting our lunches short. But it was our duty to take care
of our community, and we did it.
But I’m not going
to say I was happy to be there, because I was not. From the very beginning, a
large percent of our customers treated it like it was a party, nothing but a
big joke with toilet paper as the punch line. But the Governor had shut schools
and people were scrambling. And then he shut “non-essentials” so the scramble
continued. This wasn’t like when a snowstorm is predicted with everyone
grabbing extra milk and bread. Our shelves were as empty as I’ve ever seen them
and the supply chain had been broken. We had to begin to limit quantities. And
still, they acted like it was a joke or an inconvenience.
I became angry and
tense and sick to my stomach. I turned my back when I had to walk past a
customer, holding my breath as if that would help. I had a bottle of sanitizer
that I carried with me and I went around several times a day with soapy bleach
water and washed handles and flat surfaces. I’m not germophobic—I routinely
handle raw meat with no problem. But it began to feel like I had this ticking
time bomb in my body. I didn’t know when it would go off or how powerful the
explosion would be. It might be nothing more than a firecracker but there were
equal chances that it would be a stack of dynamite. Every breath I took felt
like I was inhaling poison.
And still there
were customers who refused to take it seriously. Customers that came in every
day and walked around, pushing a cart down all of the aisles, talking with
everyone they knew, only to buy 3 or 4 items—because they were bored. My chest
grew tighter and tighter until I started having chest pains. I was so tense my
muscles hurt and spasmed. I couldn’t sleep. I was nauseous and sometimes on the
verge of tears. In short--I was a hot mess!
It wasn’t just
myself and my husband that I worried about. I began to really
feel the chasm that existed between me
and my parents. Although they live far enough away that I don’t spend a lot of
time at their house, I’ve always been available when they needed me. And
suddenly, it wasn’t safe. They are in their ‘80s and Mom has COPD. I couldn’t
risk it. And that knowledge made my chest tighter.
My husband was
worried about me and we discussed it for two days before deciding we would go
into quarantine. I was nervous about asking, but my boss was very nice about it
and my husband was able to take a leave-of-absence, and so on April 1, we
withdrew. Retreat is more like it. I felt like there was a battle happening and
I was losing. A man in the store said to me one day, “Thank you for your
service.” How was I supposed to respond to that? My brother, he’s a soldier. He
served overseas. “This isn’t the same,” my brain yelled as I awkwardly thanked
the man.
So now I’m home.
And I found out that a couple more from the store have taken leave for health
reasons. But still, there’s this guilt--that I’ve left my coworkers to deal
with what’s going on--and it’s a heavy burden. A little voice keeps whispering
“selfish” except, why should I feel like that? I do no one any good if I get
sick from stress any more than if I get sick from the virus. If I stay healthy,
then I can go back later and take over and let them rest.
I worry about my
friends and family that work in medical fields. They can’t bow-out like I did. I’m
in this bubble now, one I’m sure many of you feel. I’ve become an introvert and
I’m here with my husband and son, so it’s not as hard on me as I’m sure it is
on others. I want to do something for those who are still in the “trenches”,
realizing probably the smartest thing I can do is stay out of their way.
All I can say is “I’m
sorry. I wish I could have been stronger,” as I work through my grief and
guilt.
